Chapter 40

Alan takes his steaming mug of Earl Grey to the breakfast bar, where he spreads out the paper to read. He glances at the headlines as he stirs sugar into his tea, then blows on the mug and settles on the local section. Idly he wonders if there’s a review of last night’s Carmen performance.

A faint breeze swirls around his ankles, distracting him.

The air is cool, almost cold, as if Alan brought the outside in with the paper. He hears the heat blowing through the register, so he shouldn’t be chilly. Unless someone turned down the thermostat.

But it was warm upstairs. Strange that it’s cold in the kitchen.

Casually Alan glances at the back door as he takes a sip of his tea, then does a double take. The door stands open a few inches—not much, but enough to cause the draft around his legs. “What the bloody hell…?” His stool scrapes against the floor as he pushes it back to stand.